


Rebuilding the Broken Roads

by MissLiveByThePen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Fuckfest, Historical, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Marshall Plan, Multi, Oral Sex, Post-WWII, Rough Sex, Sappy, Smut, Surprises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLiveByThePen/pseuds/MissLiveByThePen
Summary: With the end of World War II, the United States of America has decided to take a firmer hand in world affairs. In order to stop the spread of Communism in Europe, the US invests millions of dollars in rebuilding Europe.For Alfred F. Jones, personification of the nation, that means fucking his way across Europe. There are worse ways to serve your people.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a baby of mine for many years now. It is probably as precious to me as my thesis. Let me know how you like it!

The United States of America sat on the balcony of the newly remodeled hotel room with a smoldering cigarette dangling from his fingers. Frustrated, he stubbed the end out in the ashtray and flicked the half-smoked cigarette off the balcony. He’d given up enjoying the Virginia tobacco hours ago, too hyper-focused on the task at hand. A paper sat in his lap, listing the name of each nation that would visit him over the next few days to receive their ‘economic aid’. It seemed silly and childish to think of fucking another nation as ‘economic aid’, but that was the way of nations. Such an intimate act sealed the deal in a way a handshake or a treaty could not and this deal between the United States and Europe needed to be sealed before their economy crashed.

The war was finally over, but Europe lay broken at America’s feet. Their children starved and their homes turned to rubble, even the hardened soldier returned home to death, disease, and destruction that was nearly too much to handle. The United States of America could not let his fellow nations remain in such a state, especially since he was relatively untouched by the war. They ached and burned even though the war was long over. Alfred slept well at night and his children were even off rations, he couldn’t say the same for most of Europe. He needed to help or he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. If he was already helping his former enemy recover from the atomic bomb drop, then he could help the victims of Germany’s power lust. His people could develop something to save their economies and rebuild their democratic institutions. He could really be a hero this time around without needing to rely on ammunition and bombs. No one would have to die while he fixed this mess and he might even be able to stop the spread of nasty Communism.

So, Alfred worked closely with his Secretary of State, George C. Marshall, and watched with pride as the man developed a brilliant plan to stabilize the European economy. Of course, America would need to finance it, but it would mean Europe could be rehabilitated. The European economy would be saved (and maybe his own as well)! In a great show of camaraderie, Alfred even offered the Marshall Plan to Ivan and the Soviet Block. The offer was denied, of course, but America felt confident that he could help the 17 countries that met the terms. 

The wind blew the paper in his lap, making the American grab it quickly least it fly away. Not like he needed it, after all. He’d memorized those 17 names. He knew them forwards and backwards. Alfred knew his duty, but fuck, he was nervous. This was his big debut, especially after a word like ‘superpower’ was getting thrown around. Who didn’t want to be a superpower? Alfred certainly did, even if he did have to share it with the Soviet Union. 

Grunting, Alfred stood up and walked to the table in his hotel room, fishing through the tubes of lube in his suitcase until he found a small box with the number one written on the tag. There were 17 boxes, one for every nation he would see. Inside each box was a set of special items to make whatever nation walked through that hotel door feel at home. Alfred might be fucking them, but he certainly wasn’t going to make them feel dirty or uncared for. Alfred would take care of them. He’d already made that promise and he would see it through. 

Alfred opened the lid of the first box, lifting a small music box from the depths. He’d never cared much for the thing, but he knew his first partner would enjoy it. He turned the box over just a little to crank the hand crank, smiling fondly as the melody of a piano filled the relatively silent hotel room. The American stood there listening to the tune, until a soft knock sounded upon his door. Alfred closed his suitcase and walked to the door to open it. 

Austria had arrived.

~~~~~  
Notes:

* The Marshall Plan was the economic plan of the Secretary of State, George C. Marshall, developed in 1948. The United States gave nearly 17 billion dollars (nearly 160 billion today) to rebuild European economies after WWII. Their goals included: rebuilding, modernize industry, remove trade barriers, and make Europe prosperous.  
* The Soviet Union refused negotiations with the United States over the Marshall Plan, but getting into that opens up a whole can of worms I’d rather not focus on. (IE: The Cold War was fucked)  
* Rationing in the United States ended in 1946, but rationing in the United Kingdom did not end until 1954.  
*Underneath General Douglas MacArthur, the United States worked at rehabilitating Japan after their surrender. Their goals: to reform Japan, revive Japanese economy and develop a formal peace treaty and alliance.  
*The 17 countries included in the Marshall Plan: Austria, Belgium, Denmark, France, Greece, Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, the United Kingdom, and western Germany.


	2. Austrian Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austria has arrived in all his glory.

Austria arrived prepared, (in more ways than one, Alfred would soon find out). He was all business, giving Alfred a simple nod before disappearing into the bathroom to strip from his long coat and trousers into a set of nightclothes. America was left standing near the bed, awkwardly trying to decide if he should remain standing or climb into bed. Austria didn’t give him a chance to decide, because he slipped out of the bathroom and stood before the American in a long, white nightgown. 

“You’re still dressed.” The Austrian observed as he pushed his glasses back up his nose, motioning for Alfred to undress. “Honestly, you act like you’ve never done this before.” Roderich’s frown deepened as he peered at the American over the top of his glasses. “I suppose you haven’t, have you? This,” he motioned between the two of them, “is a very old world notion.”

“I didn’t want to just be sittin’ here naked, that wouldn’t be very…proper.” Alfred shrugged, awkwardly trying to give Roderich a smile, only for it not to be returned. He’d been warned about that. The Austrian didn’t smile much, nor did he seem very interested in pretending to smile. It threw Alfred off and made him feel unbalanced. He reached up to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. His cheeks flooded with heat as he dropped his shirt to the ground, reaching down to work on his trousers. “They said this was the best way to implement aid the fastest. I want you to feel better, Roderich.”

The Austrian’s cheeks turned pink, but he busied himself with snatching Alfred’s shirt off the floor and folding it to hide his blushing face. He placed the folded shirt on the table, holding his hand out as Alfred stepped out of his trousers. “Might as well give me those too.” He gave Alfred an appreciative glance down his torso, stopping at his boxers as he placed Alfred’s folded trousers on top of the shirt.

Alfred jerked his head down, hoping he hadn’t accidentally worn old underwear. He couldn’t meet with a classy guy like Austria with old underwear. He didn’t want to come off as slovenly. “What’s wrong?” He asked curiously, after finding his new boxers a pristine white color. 

“Nothing.” Austria answered quickly before walking over and popping the elastic band of Alfred’s boxers. Roderich inhaled slowly, ignoring the American’s gasp of surprise, and pushing them down Alfred’s thick thighs. “It’s been years since I’ve seen boxers without a button.” Violet eyes flicked up to lock with vibrant blue ones. “Victory has done well for you, Alfred. I suppose your people were right, to the victor belong the spoils.” 

It was such a sweet moment, because the thought of victory always made Alfred a little weak-kneed and sentimental. He reached down to tilt Roderich’s chin up and placed the lightest of kisses along his jawline. “Then allow me to spread the spoils.” He wrapped an arm around Austria’s waist, pulling them both down to the bed. The stiff binding of Roderich’s corset startled the American, but once he realized what it was he gently rubbed his fingertips along the intricate bindings. “Isn’t this uncomfortable?” 

“No. I’ve become used to the tightness,” the Austrian answered, squirming underneath the weight of the American above him, “I’ve spent too many years sitting at my piano. Old age has made me grow fat.” 

“You’re not fat.” Alfred insisted as he hesitantly reached up to comb his fingers through the Austrian’s chocolate colored hair. In the moment of quiet, America listened to the music box play another song before dissipating into complete silence. His fingers didn’t stay idle, they disappeared down Roderich’s sides and stroked over his hips. He mapped out the nation’s body, calming him with those soft touches. 

Roderich sighed softly, tossing his arm over his eyes as he squirmed with the sweet touches. His cheeks heated and his lips a bright red as he bit them to keep from making too much noise. “This isn’t..ahh..what I expected from you.”

“What did you expect?” America asked as he tilted his head to the side and pulled the nightgown up Roderich’s thighs. He blinked as he realized the Austrian wasn’t wearing underwear. His soft cock and round ass were completely bare to the American. It was an unexpected, but welcomed sight. There was something else catching his eye. There was a slight glimmer on Roderich’s ass. Alfred had always been much too curious for his own good and he reached forward to drag his index finger through the slick substance. It was lube, Alfred realized with a furrow brow. “Roderich?” 

Roderich grunted as goose bumps raced down his thighs at the touches to his sensitive ass, “I expected youthful exuberance.” 

“You prepared yourself.” Alfred stated, using his thumbs to spread Austria’s ass cheeks. He was stuffed full of slick. The slippery liquid clung to his skin and the excess slick dribbled down to splatter against the sheets of the bed. “Fuck.” It was one of the hottest things the American had seen in a long time. His cock throbbed against his thigh, protesting the neglect.

“Don’t act surprised!” Austria scolded, peeking from underneath his arm to glare at the grinning American. “I wanted to be prepared for anything.” Definitely, he snapped his legs together as a pout settled upon his face. “Your teasing is not helping.”

Alfred just chuckled as he massaged a set of small circles on Roderich’s fleshy ass, coaxing those legs apart once more. “I’m sorry, hon.” Dropping the pet name in hopes of getting back on his sweet side. “Just relax and I’ll take good care of you.” He coaxed Roderich to sit up just a bit, using the time to completely pulling the nightgown over the nation’s head. This he tossed onto the floor despite an indignant squawk from the smaller man. 

“You’re picking that up.” The Austrian snapped, only to be cut off as Alfred pressed their lips together once more. The kiss was a distraction for the American’s thick fingers to press inside Roderich’s welcoming, tight hole. He wasn’t lying when he said he prepared himself. Alfred’s fingers twisted and stretched the muscles and they yielded easily to his efforts. 

Alfred pulled his lips away, panting softly as he watched Roderich’s chest heave as he gasped for air. “Relax, hon.” He whispered softly, grinning as Austria’s blush threatened to trail all the way down his torso, stopping at the top of the black corset. Alfred traced the top of the corset, enjoying the way Austria shivered with each stroke. “Just like that,” he purred, letting his free hand inch towards the tube of lube sitting on the bedside table. Roderich might have prepared himself, but Alfred was a firm believer in you could never use enough slick. He certainly didn’t want friction burn on his or Austria’s dick. With his hand slick, he reached down to stroke his partner, feeling the shaft plump and lengthen in his hand. Mostly Alfred enjoyed watching Austria writhe, twisting and whining as the American alternated between soft, slow strokes and hard, fast ones. 

Alfred admired how pretty Austria was when he lost himself in his pleasure. The low arousal that had been growing in the America’s stomach flared to life, igniting a yearning inside him. “Fuck.” He cursed as he took his hand away just as Roderich was to cum. It was an asshole move, but Alfred didn’t want him too sensitive. He used the hand slick with lube and Austria’s pre-cum to stroke his own half-hard cock until the organ as hard and pulsing with life. 

Austria gave a choked groan as Alfred spread his ass cheeks again, pressing the bulbous head of his cock into the tight channel. Constricting heat and undeniable pleasure shot through the American’s body, his hips twitching desperately to sink deeper into Roderich. It had been a while for Alfred. The war years didn’t give him more time for baser needs, but his body didn’t forget the joy of a good fuck. 

Roderich was undeniably impatient once Alfred was pressed inside him, the American’s cock nudging just right against his prostate for a teasing pleasure. His arms were wrapped around the American’s neck and his fingernails were digging groves into his back. They stung painfully, but it sent another thrill down Alfred’s spine. The mix of pleasure and pain pushed heat into the American’s veins. He rocked into Roderich, listening to the moans and whimpers of the man underneath him, turning his attention to any part of the nation that was lacking in affection. 

They moved together, Alfred pressing open-mouthed kisses to Roderich’s neck, never quite marking the soft skin there. Austria groaned, reaching down to stroke himself as Alfred increased the speed of his thrusts. His actions sent shivers through his body making him tighten around the American’s cock. Alfred wasn’t one to be a selfish lover. His hand joined Roderich’s own and stroked him in quick, rough strokes. As the Austrian’s prostate was assaulted along with his cock, he found himself drowning in pleasure. He came with a soft gasp, arching into Alfred’s hand and sending shocks through his body. Alfred became lost in that pleasure, rutting into Austria until his thighs trembled and his vision flashed white. He pressed once more into Austria, spilling his seed deep into the nation.

Panting softly, Alfred pulled his spent cock out of Austria, collapsing to lie on his side. Roderich trembled in the aftershocks of his own climax, twitching as the American pressed his fingers back into his spent hole, keeping his seed from leaking out. Roderich moaned at the sensitivity of his puckered entrance, closing his eyes but not fighting the motion. The entire point was to keep Alfred inside the Austrian for as long as possible. 

Alfred reached down to the mess of sheets at the end of the bed, tugging them up to cover Roderich. He wanted to make sure the other man was taken care of in all ways. As he settled down for a quick nap beside his bed partner, Roderich stopped him with a soft kiss to the forehead. “Thank you, Alfred, for everything.”

The smile Alfred gave the Austrian in return was blinding. 

~~~~~~~~

Notes  
* In the United States (and I’m sure other countries) elastic was rationed for other uses. World War II saw many men’s underwear being made with button snaps instead of elastic. Also, stockings were rationed as well.   
* Austria was difficult to write, but I tried to include many of the character traits that I’ve researched. Hopefully he’s close enough.   
* Austria (the country) was the first country to join into a union with Germany during World War II. The famous Anschluss was the joining of ethnic Germans.   
* 'To the victor belongs the spoils' originated in the United States during the 1800s, from what my research tells me anyway.


	3. Belgian Delicacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace is uncomfortable for Belgium after spending years in the muck and mud.

Alfred intended to pamper Emma when her turn came. In fact, in her box he’d sent for a few specialty items: a pair of nylons, her favorite chocolate, even some of those fancy scented soaps. He’d wanted to take her into the bathroom and run scented water over her bruised and scarred skin. He’d even let her eat the chocolate pieces as he washed her hair and tended to each blemish. He wanted to show her just how much he appreciated the sacrifice of her people. Call him a romantic, but he wanted to show Belgium a good time, especially after she was always so pleasant to him and suffered so much in both wars. 

Though he had all of these plans, the nation of Belgium surprised him with one of her own. 

As he prepared for their night, she sent her assistant to his hotel room with a single note to meet her in the downstairs bar. It wasn’t what Alfred expected, but he gathered her box to meet with her. He’d seen her briefly during his time in her country, but he’d been a little too focused on commanding his troops and kicking German ass. She’d always been beautiful in the special way women always were, but he never had the chance to appreciate her beauty. Female nations were few and far between, and usually fiercely independent, so he rarely dabbled with them. 

He regretted that nearly instantly as he walked into the bar. Emma was gorgeous as she sat at a corner table wearing a powder blue shirtdress. The low-cut neckline gave him a grand view of her ample bosom and looked out of place in a bar full of businessmen. Alfred smiled sweetly at her as she spotted him and stood to kiss his cheek in greeting. 

“Alfred, it’s a pleasure to see you so well-rested.” She coolly said, stroking her gloved fingers down his wrist as she tugged him into the seat beside her. The off-white tablecloth scrunched unattractively across the table as he scooted his chair closer to the woman. Almost compulsively, she straightened the cloth with one flick of her hand. Her green eyes never strayed far from the box in Alfred’s hand. He knew Austria flaunted his treats. Why wouldn’t he? Alfred was taking this Old World tradition and adding New World charm. 

To save her the embarrassment of asking, the American placed the box in front of her. “I’m glad to see you’re out of that ugly sling. Everything healing up okay?” It wasn’t unusual to see any of the European nations sporting bandages or slings. Their economies and bodies were just starting to recover from the war. 

Emma nodded her head, making her cropped hair fly around her face. “I’ve been out of the sling for nearly two weeks. It’s nice to be able to use my arm again.” She laughed humorlessly, reaching into her purse to grab a cigarette. 

Alfred reached into his pocket to offer her a light. The orange flame touches the white tip of her cigarette until it darkened and burned. It reminded him of French villages as they marched through the border or the stories the Soviet Union told from the Eastern front. Sometimes he found himself having nightmares about red soldiers stomping across his cities and burning everything they could not use. He didn’t mention them often. His president was already concerned with Alfred’s mental stability. He’d become increasingly paranoid since reports showed the Soviets were created their own bomb. 

He gave a full body shiver, ignoring the curious look in those green eyes. It wasn’t her place to worry about his issues tonight. He snapped the lighter shut, slipping it back into his pocket. “I’m surprised, Emma. I wasn’t scheduled to meet with you until next week.”

She shrugged, taking a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke into the ceiling. “Maybe I’m ready for a little fun. We haven’t had much of it lately.” She watched the rising smoke for a moment, her socked feet rubbing along Alfred’s calf. “It’s been far too quiet, to be honest.” 

Alfred could understand. They’d spent years fighting against invading forces. Years clawing and scratching their way through the muck of war while bullets and bombs rained down upon them. They’d seen far too many years of barely surviving and constantly looking over their shoulders for dark, unknown monsters. It was difficult to forget the memories of warfare; even harder to admit a part of you missed the adrenaline and tension. 

You missed war. 

How fucked up was that?

Looking at Emma, he could see it in her eyes. The fight still lingered. She was growing restless and hated the fact that she was uncomfortable during peacetime. After having Germany trample through her forests, she’d grown used to fighting. She needed a distraction. 

“Good thing I’ve got a reputation for being loud,” he quipped with a charming grin, hoping to break her melancholy mood. He received the reaction he wanted. Her lips twitched up into a rueful, hopeful smile and her foot slipped higher up his leg. She pressed the soft curve of her foot against his crotch, lightly resting it there. Alfred refused to discourage her. He reached down, lightly taking her foot in his hand and massaging small circles along her arch. Her socks were rough from repeated patches, but he ignored them. 

“Let’s get out of here.” The suggestion didn’t take them far. Emma hadn’t led him back to his upstairs hotel room, or to her own accommodations. She dragged him into a back alley, grinning up at him as she leaned against the wall. “I don’t have time for sweetness. My family is in ruins. My people are rebuilding. I’m needed too much there.”

Alfred listened carefully, reaching out to cup her face with his hand. He stroked his thumb over her stubborn chin, “then what do you need? Tell me and I’ll make it happen.” 

She squirmed for a moment before reaching out to tug Alfred into a fierce kiss. “I want you here.” Emma didn’t seem to care they were pressed against the dingy wall behind a bar. She didn’t care that someone could walk by any moment. If anything, she looked excited at the very though. 

Danger, Alfred suddenly remembered, she missed the danger too. What was more exciting that being fucked in public? He didn’t pull away from her once she surrendered his lips. He kept one arm wrapped around her waist, keeping them close to each other. He met her eyes for a moment before slipping his hand underneath her skirt. His fingertips grazed her cotton panties. She jerked in his arms before easily widening her stance. “You’ve got me,” he responded as he slipped those panties down her thighs. They pooled around her feet, completely forgotten as his fingers brushed along the slit of her soft pussy. His thumb quickly found the sweet little nub barely hidden by coarse hairs. He rubbed her clit in a slow, circular motion groaning as he watched her pinch her own nipples through her shirt. It wasn’t often Alfred found himself with such a responsive female partner. 

He leaned forward to nibble along her collarbone, shuddering as she tilted her hips to entice his fingers. She was already so very wet for him. He wanted to taste her. He knelt before her, balancing precariously on his haunches. While she was twitching her hips, desperately searching for more contact, he grabbed a handful of her ass to tug her against his face. Her sharp cry of surprise spurred him forward. He slipped two fingers between her slick folds, slowly fucking her with them as his tongue wrapped around her clit. She was trying to hide her sounds, but his flexible tongue was preventing that. A part of him wanted the whole world to know it was Alfred F. Jones that was making this strong woman moan like a whore. 

Emma wasn’t hiding her hunger, even if she tried to stifle her moans. “I’ve heard you’re strong, Alfred.” Her green eyes danced in the few slivers of light coming from the street. Emma didn’t hesitate as she reached underneath her skirt to press his face deeper against her. She rode his face, panting as her thighs trembled with the effort to stay standing. “Can you lift me into the air?” 

Oh, she was wicked thing. He gave her one, long teasing lick, removing his wet fingers from her to help her legs hitch over his shoulders. Alfred kept a good hold on her ass before standing to his full height. He was thankful he had the leg strength to lift her. He kept Emma’s back pressed to the wall of the alley, reveling in her squeak of approval as he returned to eating her out. 

With her thighs wrapped around his head, Alfred had the perfect, unhindered access to her sweet pussy. She was such a messy girl for him. Practically drowning him as he fucked her hole with his tongue. Despite the treat he was being offered, Alfred knew time was important for them both. He regretfully stilled her rocking hips, soothing that soft, needy whine with a gentle caress as he wrapped his lips around her swollen clit. The suction and his tongue lashing against her were far too much for Emma. She barely muffled a groan as she came for him. Alfred dutifully licked her clean until she was twitching again.

Despite her weak, unstable legs, Alfred carefully placed her back on the ground. She stumbled a little, before catching herself on the stonewall. When Alfred went to hold her, she chuckled as she shrugged him off choosing instead to press a kiss to his lips. “Come on, you’re not done.” Her hands slipped down to unbuckle his belt. He let her, only making a sound when she slipped her hands underneath the band of his boxers and grabbed his cock. 

He’d been hard since Emma pressed her foot against his crotch in the bar. He didn’t need any further encouragement from her. It was a blessing of being a young nation. Together, they slipped his trousers down his thighs. He stopped Emma from dropping to her knees, instead nudging her to lean against the wall. He soothed his hand down her back, enjoying the soft skin and mourning the scars. She really was beautiful. “Like that doll,” he whispered, grabbing her hips as he moved her into position. 

Alfred slipped inside her with a soft grunt of pleasure. She was so warm and open for him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, slowly rocking into Emma. It was slow and a little sweet, but neither seemed to care. Emma turned her head, capturing Alfred’s lips to kiss him as he thrust deeper inside her. They moved together, gasping and grunting, as the world around them seemed to disappear. Alfred’s hands slipped underneath her shirt, palming her breasts as the friction from his thick cock ignited a raging fire in her belly. 

“Alf-Alfred,” she panted, reaching down to rub her clit in time with his thrusts. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He felt her orgasm before he ever heard the delicious sounds leaving her throat. Those tight muscles squeezing around him made him lose all control. He fucked through her orgasm, finally pressing deep and erupting inside the beautiful woman. He kept himself stuffed inside her as he caught his breath, resting his forehead against Emma’s shoulders. They’d ruined their clothes. Her shirtdress was stretched and laid awkwardly on her shoulders. Her panties were pooled in the muck of the alley. Alfred’s trousers weren’t much better. 

When he pulled out, he was pleased to see only a small bit of his seed leak from her. It needed to stay inside her for as long as possible. They worked together to fix their clothes, sharing exhausted laughter and breathless conversation. When the time came for them to part, Alfred double-checked to make sure Emma had her box before accepting a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you, love.” 

Alfred winked at her before dutifully escorting her back to the bar. 

~~~~  
Notes:

*Women’s fashion in the late 1940s and early 1950s was revolutionized with the development of Christian Dior’s ‘House of Dior’. Low neck-lines, pencil skirts became the ‘New Look’  
*I’ve always imaged Belgium wouldn’t play coy. She became involved in two ruthless wars and her country was severely scarred. She’s a rather modern kind of girl.   
*Oh boy, the Soviets are my favorite thing to talk about. The Red Army had a wonderful little habit of ‘slash and burn’ technique when they ran across countries. Whatever they could not use, they destroyed so no one else could. The Soviets will also develop their first atomic bomb in 1949. (After spies give them the plans. It was pinned on Ethel and Julius Rosenberg, but there’s been some evidence recently that Ethel may not have been involved. There’s also evidence that it wasn’t them that passed the information.)  
*France was unprepared for Germany’s invasion because the Germans decided to slip through Belgium. No one really believed the German tanks and military could make it through the thick forests, but the panzers did. They reached Paris shortly after.


	4. Danish Brews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Able wants to forget the Germans and is too stubborn to let Alfred come to him.

/Bang/

/Bang/

The loud knocks on his hotel door had the American nation scrambling to reach a weapon. Those knocks sounded far too similar to the sounds of bombs hitting against metal bunkers. Of bullets rattling off tanks as they entered an occupied area. It took Alfred right back to the battlefield. His breathing became ragged and shallow. His eyes hazy the hotel room melted into the horrifying beaches of Normandy. So much misery and blood on those shores and there was nothing he could do to save anyone. Boys drowning before they ever got a chance to touch shore. 

/Bang/

“Jones,” a slurred voice sounded from outside the door. “Open up. I wanna talk to you. Fuckin’, Jones.” 

The accented voice startled him out of his momentary flashback. His head ached from the experience as he tried to stabilize himself. Despite being several months away from his last battle, the battle fatigue hasn’t gone away. It stayed with him throughout his day. Sometimes he would find himself waking up from nightmares that never seemed to end when he opened his eyes. It was obvious from his shaking hand that he needed another moment to catch his breath, but the impatient man outside his door wasn’t going to allow that to happen. 

“Jones!”

Alfred grunted as he sat up to find his bathrobe. “Hang on!” He called out as he slipped the cloth over his shoulders and tied the belt loosely at his waist. When he finally opened the door, he found himself face-to-face with Abel Densen. 

The Scandinavian country held a half-empty whiskey bottle between his fingers, waving the drink around with a wide smirk. “So, you finally decide to show! I never thought I would need to come to you.” He took another long swig of his whiskey, grunting as he seemed to loose his balance. 

“You’re drunk, Abel.” Alfred uselessly pointed out, reaching over to steady the blond nation. He’d known for a while that Abel seemed to be drinking himself silly. Many nations had various degrees of regret when they thought about the events that led them to the Second World War. The non-aggression pact made with German and the subsequent surrender to the German government must weight heavy on Abel’s mind. “C’mon, hon, let’s get you inside.” Wrangling the squirming man wasn’t easy. Abel squirmed like a fucking octopus, all arms and legs as they stumbled into his hotel room. 

“Can fuckin’ do it myself,” he grumbled, despite leaning heavily on Alfred’s arm. “I don’t need your help or anyone else.” When he finally managed to get to the bed, he plopped against the sheets, squirming until he could comfortably continue drinking. “Big man now, huh?” Abel sneered as he leaned up on his elbow to point a finger at the America. “I remember when you were just another colony. No one could have anticipated you destroying England’s empire.” He laughed humorlessly as he took another swig, “’bout time someone put that ass in his place.” 

Alfred stood there helplessly for a moment, peering down at his fellow nation with a hint of worry in his eyes. “What are you doing here, Abel?” His meeting with the Danish nation wasn’t supposed to happen for another two weeks. He wasn’t even in fucking Denmark. Not that Abel seemed to care, because he was far too busy trying to shimmy out of his trousers. “Abel,” he snapped his fingers to capture the man’s attention, “what are you doing?”

Grunting as his trousers caught on the curve of his foot, the blond nation gave a triumphant grin when he finally managed to pull them off. “I’m comin’ to get my assistance. Wasn’t fucking waiting on your lazy ass to find me, either.” His fingers fumbled over the buttons on his shirt, but he hadn’t quite managed to get the buttons undone. “Fuck it,” he grumbled as he dropped his hand to the bed, “it can stay on. Tch. You gonna fuck me, or what?” 

The American stood there blinking as his mind tried to process the scene in front of him. No one was ever going to deny that Abel Denson was hot in a ‘bad boy’ way. His harsh, ‘do-it-my-way’ attitude was downright sexy. Yet, seeing him fumble with his buttons and squirming against the pillows made him look unequivocally adorable. “Not right now,” Alfred decided, groaning as he climbed back into bed and shoved Abel’s legs out of the way. “I’m going back to sleep. You should probably do that, too.”

The last sound Alfred hears is Abel grumbling about ‘lightweights’ and ‘missed opportunities’ before his world descends into darkness. 

\---------------

Morning usually brought a world of aches to Alfred’s life. The exhaustion from several years running across Europe and the constant growth in his own country created a number of aches and pains in his muscles and bones.

This morning was different. 

An enthusiastic mouth sucking his morning wood overshadowed the initial discomfort. For a moment, he didn’t quite know who was with him in bed until the memories from the night before came back to him. “Abel,” he breathed out, reaching down to tangle his fingers into the wild blond hair, “Jesus Christ, man. I needed a better warning.”

Abel released him with a ‘pop’ of his lips, smirking as he dug his nails into Alfred’s thick thighs. “Surprise blowjobs aren’t a perk of being a superpower?” He marked the teasing question with another long lick of the American’s dick before swallowing him down again. 

“Fuck, no,” Alfred breathed out, tugging Abel’s hair as he let out an eager slurp. “Fuck, Abel. I’m gonna cum.” He shoved that big mouth away, smirking as he admired the beads of spit and precum splattered across his soft lips. 

“Isn’t that the point, Jones?” The Danish nation questioned as he straddled Alfred’s hips, reaching back to guide the American inside himself. “Aren’t you supposed to be fucking us? Fillin’ us wih cum?” He let out a sharp groan as Alfred’s cock speared through him. It had been a lonely few years as a German occupied territory. Abel hadn’t felt comfortable enough to let down his guard long enough to fuck anyone. 

If Abel wanted an answer, he wasn’t going to get it from Alfred. The American was far too busy grappling sweaty hips as he thrust into Abel. He leaned forward, trying to draw the man into a kiss. Abel met him with teeth. Sharp teeth tugged at Alfred’s lips until they bruised and bled a little. The pain was shockingly sexy. “Fuck, Abel.”

“That’s right,” he groaned, “you’re fucking me.” Sweat gathered on the Dane’s brow as he worked his hips in an agonizingly slow pace. With each grunt, he found himself moving faster and harder. His entire body in a frenzy. Alfred wasn’t any more composed than his partner. They moved together in a furious, rough pace until Abel’s body went limp. 

He knew from the wet splatter against his stomach and the ragged breathing against his neck that Abel was done. He kept his arm secured around the Dane’s lower back as he sought his own completion. With each furious thrust, he swallowed down each of Abel’s soft whines, feeling them vibrate through his entire body. 

When he finally reached his completion, he didn’t force Able to move off him. He held him there for a moment, fingers tracing over his sweat-slick back. “This really was a nice surprise.” 

Abel snorted. He was the one that made the first move, rolling over to make himself comfortable on the bed. “Figured it was awkward as hell meeting people to fuck. Thought I’d come to you.” He pushed the pillow underneath his head, fingers reaching for the half-empty bottle on the bedside table, “thought it would shake shit up.”

“Don’t drink that,” Alfred chided as he reached over to snatch the bottle, “it’s been open all night.”

“I lived underneath the Third Reich,” Abel reminded with a sneer, “a bottle of fucking alcohol isn’t going to kill me.” 

“No, idiot,” the American hissed as he reached into his suitcase for a box. He handed it over, eyes wide as the Dane untied the present to reveal a very nice bottle of Scotch. “Thought you’d like something new.” 

“Where the fuck did you get this?” Abel questioned as he popped the top and inhaled the scent. Damn, it even smelled old. One drink confirmed that it was a good batch. He took another long sip, groaning as he leaned back against the pillows. “Fuck, that’s good. Helps me forget, you know?”

For a moment, Alfred’s expression went dark. He knew what Abel was doing. He was trying to forget about the complacency. He was trying to pretend he hadn’t given in to Germany. “You know,” he said softly, “refusing the order to intern the Jews took a lot of guts, Abel.” He locked eyes with the Dane, reaching over to give him a one-armed hug. “Never forget you didn’t roll over. You fought just like we did, just in different ways.” 

Those blue eyes went a little watery for a moment before shoving the bottle of Scotch into Alfred’s face. “Shut the fuck up and drink, Jones.” 

Though he wanted to add more to his speech, he couldn’t break the camaraderie between them. Abel would need a while before he put his demons to rest. If he wanted to forget for just a little while, well, Alfred wasn’t about to deny him that. 

\--------------------

 

*Normandy, France was the landing point for Operation D-Day. The most ambitious (and successful) amphibious landing up until that point. The operation was shrouded in complete secrecy so they wouldn’t alert the Germans to their plans to invade occupied France. Of the five beaches, the US landed on Omaha and Utah, which is where some of the heaviest fighting was seen. They ended up achieving their task, but lost a lot of soldiers. 

* Battle Fatigue (or shell shock) was the name given to the symptoms many soldiers experience during (and in the aftermath) of war. Today, we most commonly refer to it as PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Back then, it wasn’t research and treatment was few and far between. There’s a very famous story of General Patton striking young soldiers because he thought they were wasting medical supplies and care for a nonexistent condition.

*Denmark is a really difficult character, but I hope I got him! Now for history: Denmark was originally a protectorate underneath Germany. Germany /promised/ not to invade, then decided to invade. They would remain underneath a de facto government until the Allies rolled in after D-Day. Now, there was a large resistance group in Denmark, which would successfully refuse to allow the Germans to intern Danish Jews. (Essentially, they refused to let these Jews be placed in concentration camps.) So, Denmark collaborated, but so did a lot of fucking countries.


	5. French Lullabies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first ally had been Francis and would always hold a soft spot in Alfred's heart.

Despite the bags underneath his eyes, Francis Bonnefoy has never looked more elegant than he did sitting underneath the soft glow of a Parisian streetlight. The golden glow brings out the blond highlights in his hair and almost gives off this angelic sheen. His hair has been curled for the first time since Dunkirk. Even his clothing is very reminiscent of the Zoot Suits that caused so much trouble around the world. High waisted pants with pegged trousers that did a wonderful job of showing off Francis’ legs. 

He always had such great legs. 

It’s obvious he put up quite the effort here. Too bad Alfred ruined it with one scan of the menu and a startling realization Coca-Cola wasn’t being offered as an option. “No Coke?” Francis grunted out a soft sound as he reached into his suit pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Still smokin’ Luckies, I see. Thought you said they tasted like shit?”

It was only after Francis took that first, deep drag that he flicked a bit of ash towards the ground. “They do taste like shit, but they’re everywhere in Paris. My beautiful city seems more American than French most days. See?” The Frenchman pointed towards a handsome American GI flirting with a tableful of pretty French girls. The girls tittered with happiness before inviting him to their meager meal of cheese and bread. “I’m even seeing more Americans than my own children.”

There was an uncomfortable atmosphere between the two men for a moment. Alfred wanted to deny it. He wanted to chirp that it was all in Francis’ head, but his eyes trailed over to an advertisement for a General Electric refrigerator and one beside it for a Maytag dryer. If he continued looking, he’d find a great number of American companies being advertised in Francis’ heart. Maybe he had a point? What more could Francis want, though? He was sharing his military. He was giving him money. Didn’t he know the newest personal dryer was combating Communism everyday! Who would want to follow a Communist country that made you wash your dishes by hand? 

Alfred had to do away with the man’s melancholy attitude. Francis just needed a break. He’d been working so hard since the liberation of Paris. Everyone had, truly. “Francis,” he started with a sigh, “it won’t be like this forever. We have to have a presence here. That’s why you’ve been invited to NATO. We can’t let Ivan – “

“I do not wish to talk about my newly acquired obligations,” Francis interrupted, stubbing his cigarette against the table. The quiet was there again. It was heavy between them even as a young server placed a plate of cheeses and bread between them. As Alfred broke off a piece of baguette, the Frenchman finally reached over to press a hand against the man’s wrist. “I do apologize the selection isn’t better, mon cher. You know how difficult it is now.”

“You’re still under rationing, Francis. It’s fine.” Alfred promised, holding up his glass of bitter wine to the Frenchman. He didn’t truly know, not anymore at least. His people stopped rationing shortly after the end of the war. Europe wasn’t so lucky. “I’m just glad to be eating with a friend.”

All the tension seemed to leak from their conversation. Francis grabbed his own glass of wine to gently knock against Alfred’s own. “I have missed you, mon ami. You’ve been busy here in Europe and I hear you’ve been gracious to your hosts. Emma sends her regards.” He sipped his wine, lazily watching the American GI flirt with one of his citizens. 

“I’m only trying to fix things.” Alfred broke off a hunk of cheese, nibbling on the end until he got his fill. He didn’t want to mention that a part of his didn’t trust the other Allies to fix anything. Ivan couldn’t be trusted now and the last war showed how Arthur and Francis handled victory. Germany (both the person and the country) needed to be built up. Punished, but not beaten down. “I’m going to help as much as I can, Francis.” 

“Hmm,” Francis hummed, placing his empty glass on the table before giving the remainder of their food to a begging old woman. He watched her for a moment before sliding his piercing blue gaze back to Alfred. “Then let’s start, shall we?”

__________

It had been nearly 150 years since Alfred found his way into Francis’ bed, but the Frenchman hadn’t changed in all that time. After making their way back to the man’s apartment, he slipped into the bedroom to slip into a thin robe. It was worn and threadbare, but Francis wore it as if it were the cape of a king. His hair was untied and dangled around his ears in loose curls and waves. He slumped against the bed as Alfred stripped to his boxers. 

Even exhausted, Francis was beautiful. 

“Did you like your gift?” Alfred asked with a soft tone as he glanced at the opened bottle of wine and the half empty glass. In addition to a few, delicate yards of silk, he’d gifted the Frenchman a bottle of wine. He’s snagged it from Hitler’s own collection. Of course, knowing the way the dictator confiscating items, it was probably from Francis’ own collection. If it was, he didn’t make mention of it and simply drank deeply. 

Francis reached for Alfred’s hand, holding it tightly before bringing it up to press a kiss there. “You didn’t have to bring me anything. It’s appreciated, nonetheless. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bottle of such vintage.” When he released the American’s hand, Francis lounged upon his bed with his legs half splayed open. It was a strangely sensual pose, especially as the Frenchman allowed the robe to part along his upper chest. “Come to bed, cher.” 

How could he say ‘no’ to such a lovely person? 

Alfred crawled up Francis’ body until he could press his lips against the slivers of pale chest. Those pesky chest hairs tickled his nose as he continued up the man’s body, but they didn’t deter him. When he finally found himself eye-to-eye with a set of deep blues, he was mildly shocked to see the slight build-up of tears there. His hand cradled Francis’ cheek, but he couldn’t find words to say anything to him. 

All he could do was press another kiss to his lips and hope it said everything for him. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, honey.” He promised as he fumbled with the thin strings holding the robe closed. Francis was still so sore and bruised from the occupation. It was almost painful to see. Alfred leaned down to kiss every single one of those bruises. He tried to cover each affliction with love. 

Francis stopped him before he had a chance to complete his job. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he tilted Alfred’s head up to look him in the eyes. “I am stronger than I look, Alfred. I’ve dealt with worse and I’ve always rebounded.” He patted the American’s cheek before reaching to hand him the lube. “It’s sweet that you care so much. Never lose that.” 

Despite the nervousness building in Alfred’s chest, his hands were steady as he prepared Francis. He stretched him thoroughly. Taking extra time to tease and prod his prostate so the man would be desperate by the time they reached the ‘main event’. In all honesty, Alfred enjoyed seeing Francis’ reactions. His cheeks turned such a lovely pink and his eyes fluttered in such an attractive way. 

Once Francis deemed himself properly (and overly) prepared, he attempted to roll onto his hands and knees. Alfred stopped him. He grabbed those thin hips and tugged him closer to peer down into those deep blue eyes. “I want to watch you while I take you.” Alfred explained, reaching down to effortlessly guide himself into the man. His reward (other than the constricting heat around him) was the shocked gasp on Francis’ face when he was finally seated completely inside the man. 

He made love to Francis on a set of old sheets with years out of style clothing in the closet and an old radio crackling in the window. There wasn’t much noise between them, other than the soft, keening sounds Francis made every time Alfred pressed inside him. Their bodies spoke for them. Clenching hands dug into Alfred’s hair whenever he moved in just the right way, or clinging hips tightened anytime the American’s pace was too slow. 

When he finally came inside Francis, they were both too emotionally fried to do anything except lie there. Alfred shamelessly passed out still buried inside his partner. The soft sounds of a French lullaby soothed his sleep as delicate fingers combed through his hair. 

For the first time in a while, Alfred slept without nightmares. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Dunkirk is a town right on the coast of France. This is where the Allies (Britain and France at the time) will retreat after Germany surprised them by invading through Belgium. Civilian boats will come from the UK to save as many soldiers as they can. There is actually a movie coming out this year about it. It looks amazing!

*Zoot Suits are high-waisted men’s wear with a long coat. Think gangsters. Only problem is that they required a lot of cloth to make, which made a lot of people angry during WWII. Anyone that wore a Zoot Suit was seen as wasteful. The Zoot Suit will actually be the sparking point in a riot between US servicemen and young Latin-Americans in California. 

*Luckies are Lucky Strikes. They’re one of the most popular brands and a great number of them will be sent to soldiers during WWII.

*Coca-Cola was /almost/ be banned in some parts of France. The French Communist party will stop at nothing to prevent the American delicacy from taking over the world. They’ll claim Coke will give men erectile dysfunction and cause all sorts of cancers. Coke became so popular after WWII because the company won the contract to ship the Coke syrup to our boys overseas. 

*The US built an empire of consumerism, which is why it was so easy for the US to ‘beat’ the USSR in the Cold War. We tossed out these luxury items and essentially said ‘work for it’. The USSR couldn’t compete, really. France will have a particularly difficult time handling this American invasion. I /love/ the French and French history, but sometimes they can be a little snobby. In all honesty, they’re just trying to protect their history and culture in the face of an American takeover. 

*The Allies liberated Paris fairly soon after storming the beaches of Normandy (D-Day). Famously, they will allow the French contingent with them to enter Paris first. Allowing the French to retake their city. That probably didn’t completely take away the sting of surrendering in six weeks, but I’m sure it helped with their pride. 

*France will pull out of NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) in late 1950s after French President Charles de Gaulle protested the US’s strong role and the close ‘special relationship’ between the US and UK. They did rejoin in 2009, though. 

*Since most of the fighting took place in the fucking breadbasket of Europe, there was continued rationing in Europe until the late 1950s. I have a cousin that was born in the UK and did not see a banana until she was a teenager. 

*My Francis here is super melancholy. I wanted to have a sassy France, but my mind knows too much about the aftermath of WW2 for the country. I needed a hopeful, but sad man here. He’s just getting his bearings and mending himself.


	6. Greek Ideologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greece gave the world democracy and Alfred gave Greece freedom from Nazi rule

Despite the construction around him, Athens was a gorgeous city. He remembered the first time he stepped foot in this city over 100 years ago. He’d been so young and so enamored with seeing the Greek statues that he nearly missed his meeting with Heracles. He’d spent an entire day at Delphi, just walking amongst the ruins. 

Today, he wasn’t looking at any of the ruins. 

His attention was on the brown-haired personification that happily walked him through the streets. Hands pointed wildly to various projects. A new roof here, an updated bridge there, and even a few new buildings over the burnt remains of old ones. The scars of the German and Italian army upon the city of Athens were beginning to be cleansed. 

Heracles stood tall amongst his ruins. He stood tall with the undeniable knowledge that he’d resisted at every opportunity. The Greek resistance was one of the most effective resistance movements throughout Europe. Their guerilla warfare attacks destroyed Axis battlements and created a large espionage network that rivaled his own. 

Heracles was proud, even as he invited Alfred into his bedroom that night. There would be no hotel room this night. The American found himself in one of the older houses in Athens. The windows were broken out and the room stifling, but neither of them seemed to care as they lounged on the mattress. Alfred’s fingertips trailed over the man’s olive skin, admiring the contrast. He’d dragged him into the room without a care for the multiple cats lounging across the furniture. (They’d scattered the moment their clothes started flying everywhere.) 

Fierce, hot kisses fizzled as Alfred pulled away to dig into the satchel dumped near the edge of the bed. Another box was procured for the nation in front of him, which seemed to startle and stop their actions. Heracles made a simple motion to reach out and take the box before placing it on the bedside table. He'd picked it special for the man. (Well, he'd stolen it for the man.) It was an ancient artifact that had been in one of the German museums. He'd known just from looking at it that Greece would want it back. 

“None of that now,” he said simply as he stood up from the mattress and held his hand out to Alfred. The bewildered nation reached out to accept the hand and laughed loudly as he was pulled to his feet. What started as an awkward, half-naked spin around the room turned into a fast-paced movement of spins and jumps and the loud laughter of the two nations bouncing off the plaster. He didn’t understand why Heracles would move away for intricate footwork, but he was also sure the man didn’t understand his own motions, either. It was, perhaps, the strangest blend of Greek folk dance and American swing dance that he’d ever seen.

Alfred loved dancing. He’d been the one in all the swing halls doing the Lindy Hop and the Charleston throughout the 30s. It had been a wonderful way to take his mind off the dust rolling over his fertile fields and the crippling depression sucking his energy. Dancing always reminded him of a simpler time when his diplomatic skills were judged by his lightness of feet. (If he thought about it too long, he would even remember long nights dancing atop Arthur’s toes as the man instructed him on the perfect waltz.)

With one last flurry of activity, Alfred found himself tugged to the mattress once more. There in the silence, their breaths seemed to merge into one long sound, complete indistinguishable from each other. He moved to say something to break the silence, but a quick glance told him that his partner was asleep. Alfred chuckled softly, leaning forward to nip along the man’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his sleep. 

Yes, they had fun, but they still had a job to do. Alfred’s stomach pooled with excitement at the thought of bedding this man. Heracles reputation preceded him. According to the older nations, Greece was an undeniable god of sex, a modern day Zeus, if you asked the right people. He’d certainly asked the right people whenever he came to this part of Europe. He loved being here. There were very few demure glances or faint whispers of sexual acts. In fact, many people boldly spoke of their sexual conquests. 

They spoke boldly about Heracles. 

“Hmm,” the Mediterranean nation hummed as he woke up, “you shouldn’t have stopped.” 

Alfred blinked down at those green eyes, “you were asleep. I didn’t want to startle you.” 

Heracles laughed, but this time it seemed to make him far older than his years. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the best way to wake up is with your dick in someone’s mouth?” He reached out to tweak Alfred’s pink cheek, tugging him upwards for a kiss. Alfred certainly wasn’t going to fight it, especially as the man’s warm hand slipped underneath the elastic band of his boxers to coax his cock to life. “Ahh, the joys of youth,” the nation muttered once Alfred was hard in his hand. 

It was in that moment that Alfred truly felt young. This was the nation that gave birth to democracy. This nation had seen Alexander the Great. This nation had seen the Library of Alexandria. This nation had seen centuries more than his own. He felt young, but he felt powerful. It was that same coursing, confusing power he’d begun to feel the moment everyone began to whisper /superpower/ behind his back. He was drunk on that power and drunk on the look of Heracles underneath him. “I want you,” tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“Take me, then.” 

How could he deny the Mediterranean nation such a simple request? Alfred’s fingers fumbled with the lube, but he prepared Heracles with the care of an experienced lover. Even when he was seated deep inside the man, the American savored him like a fine wine. He wasn’t going to rush this. Even power-drunk, Alfred was still mostly human. 

“You remind me of Rome sometimes,” Heracles gasped as Alfred’s dick pushed against his walls and forced them to accept the intrusion. The shuddering announcement had Alfred stilling again, but a firm smack to the ass made him move. “Young and full of ideas.” His words broke apart for another moan, but it was those tanned hands that reached down to guide Alfred’s lower back into thrusting right where he needed it. Once the American had the right rhythm, the Greek man was able to meet him for every thrust. 

“Rome fell, though.” 

“He did.” There wasn’t any real emotion in the agreement, but Heracles clutched to Alfred’s shoulders until his nails left little half-moon marks on his skin. “You’ll just have to learn from his mistakes.” 

Heracles provided no further advice other than the occasional order on how to touch him. It wasn’t often that Alfred felt inexperienced with another nation, but he’d never been with someone so demanding. Good thing he’d always been so eager to please. 

When the night ended and the olive-skin nation lay there with Alfred’s seed spilling from him and the American nation snoozing beside him, he offered up a prayer to the gods of his mother.

A prayer of protection and of guidance. 

Maybe, this time, Rome wouldn’t fall. 

_______________________________________

*The Greek Resistance was one of the most successful and powerful movements. They’ll launch a successful guerilla warfare throughout Greece. Of course, the country will become so polarized after the invasion that there will be a slight civil war in Greece. 

*The US will experience a ‘Dust Bowl’ during the 1930s. Years of overproduction of the land, soil erosion, and the use of heavy machinery caused the fertile topsoil to become unstable. With nothing to stop the winds from carrying it away, entire farms would find their crops destroyed from the winds and dust. It’s not until the late 1930s that Roosevelt begins ordering the planting of trees and shrubs to decrease wind erosion and cut down the Dust Bowl

*Lindy Hop and Charleston are both dances that became popular during the rise of jazz in the 1920s. Eventually it’ll give way to East Coast Swing. 

*The dance they’re doing here in a mash-up of Greek folk dances (like the ballos) and American swing dances. They’re just having a good time after all the war.

*The US (and the USSR) emerged from WWII as the lone superpowers. Both had the economic abilities to rule the world, but both had two different government ideologies. The US had capitalism, while the USSR had communism. Once believes in free and open trade, while the other believes the government should control everything. As to why this happened, well, Europe was in fucking shambles after the war. 

*Once more, I get sappy instead of sexy. Sorry guys, sorry. I know it’s supposed to be Alfred fucking everyone, but it gets pushed to the back more often than not. A lot of these countries have issues after WWII and Alfred has issues with his newfound power.


	7. Icelandic Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil has a reason to deny Alfred entrance to his nation and maybe, one day, he'll give him forgiveness.

Alfred’s lips twitched downwards into an unpleasant grimace as he glanced at the message left to him from his president. 

/Alfred, visit Iceland before returning home. /

His body ached to be back on his own land. Nations tended to feel long-term negative effects after spending months away from their native lands. Alfred hadn’t been back on his own territory in nearly six months. It was a miracle he managed to last this long without a major incident. 

Still, if his boss wanted him to visit Iceland, he’d fucking visit Iceland. 

Even though the Marshall Plan was working wonders for Europe, Alfred felt like he was drowning here. He’d seen only a handful of nations and many of them left him exhausted afterwards. There was just so much destruction and melancholy throughout Europe right now. Yes, they’d defeated a great enemy, but many were left unsure how to face this new world. Even Alfred himself felt that same unsure feeling creep up his spine at the strangest of times. 

He could feel it even now as his ship docked into Hafnarfjörður. Things hadn’t always been easy between him and Emil. Prior to the beginning of World War II, Emil had been technically married to Abel. The sovereign nation of Iceland and the Kingdom of Denmark were joined in a semi-peaceful union that created a lot of trouble for the Allies during the beginning of the war. Iceland was a strategic point for them. If Iceland fell underneath Nazi control, Germany would have controlled the sea-lanes and no one really wanted that. Which meant he and Arthur made difficult decisions in order to protect a strategic mission by invading the ports. 

He knew Emil was still a little miffed over the occupation, but Alfred tried his best to make it up to him. He knew an apology wasn’t going to cut it, but surely the island nation understood that war meant difficult decisions were made for the betterment of everyone? If he didn’t, well, Alfred fully expected to find himself being held at gunpoint. 

He disembarked from his ship with his bag in hand and a frown on his face. When he made it to the dock he was a little surprised to find the silver haired nation waiting for him. He’d been fully prepared to make the trip to Emil’s home without a guide. There weren’t any words of excitement or kindness as Emil stared him up and down. There seemed to be cool acceptance there. With a slight nod of his head, the Icelandic nation guided Alfred away from the docks and towards the bustling town. 

Alfred skirted around the various people to keep a close tail on Emil, because it didn’t seem like the man was slowing down for him. Sure enough, Emil barely even looked behind him as he unlocked the door to his home. Alfred managed to catch the door behind the man and grunted as he slipped around the numerous items haphazardly strewn around the floor. He could see beer bottles amongst the trash and wondered if Abel had been there. Their relationship was strange. Though they were technically ‘married’, Abel saw himself as Emil’s older brother. He wondered if the man knew Alfred was coming and tried to prepare his ‘little’ brother. 

“You’re not fucking me.” 

Alfred blinked in surprise at the blunt words, turning his head to peer curiously at the Scandinavian nation. “That’s not the way it works. I have to fuck you if you want the aid. I know it-”

“Have you no imagination?” Emil interrupted with a slight roll of his eyes. “I thought France helped raise you?” 

If the words were supposed to be biting, he’d succeeded in making Alfred slightly embarrassed at the implications that he didn’t know what he was doing. He knew he was a young nation, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t knowledgeable in the world. In fact, it made him more angry that ashamed. He lifted his head to stare defiantly into Emil’s violet eyes. “I have plenty of imagination. Do I need to prove that to you?” 

Their staring contest lasted a few more minutes before Iceland glanced away. It was obvious from the set of his shoulders that he was just as exhausted as Alfred. “Fuck,” he cursed softly as he rubbed his hands over his eyes, “I thought it would be easier than this. I thought…” he trailed off as he plopped down in the chair to appraise the American. “I know you have to fuck me, but I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t..I don’t want you to see me naked. No one sees me naked.” 

It was such a soft admittance that Alfred almost missed it. He couldn’t deny the pain in those words and wondered what sort of affliction affected the nation. Was his skin scared from the ice? Did his body have craters from the fjords? Alfred had a long indention along his lower back that doubled as the ‘Grand Canyon’. Either way, Alfred wanted Emil to feel comfortable. If he didn’t want to be naked, he didn’t have to be naked. “We’ll work something out,” he promised with a smile. Without skipping a beat, he reached into his bag to pull out Emil’s box and settled it into his outstretched hands. “Everything will be just fine, I promise.” 

Emil turned the box over in his hand before popping the top off. He snorted as he found a roughly carved puffin. “You need to work on your wood carving.”

“I don’t have much time anymore. I tend to work on it whenever I have some downtime. Usually it’s on long train rides when I’m not working on paperwork.” Alfred responded with a slight shrug, secretly pleased when he saw Emil place the wooden puffin on his desk. “Enough talk about work,” he said with a soft sigh, “I’ll find a way to make this comfortable for both of us.” 

Without waiting for Emil to respond, Alfred sat down on the edge of the nation’s bed to begin stripping away his boots. It was almost mechanical the way he untied his boots and unbuttoned his collar. When he was down to his skivvies, he tossed his cloths into a nearby chair and patted the spot beside him. “C’mon, Emil. You call the shots here.”

“I highly doubt that’s true,” Emil snapped back, “I haven’t called the shots since the beginning of this fucking war.” 

That spark of anger was something Alfred could work with. He’d seen a lot of disgruntled anger over the past few years and he’d learn how to counteract it. (Because if you didn’t learn, you ended up with a black eye or something similar.) He let Emil pace back and forth in front of the bed and waited for his opportunity. “I am sorry for the occupation. I don’t regret trying to protect the sea lanes, but I do apologize for forcing something on you.” 

“It’s not enough,” the nation insisted as he stopped pacing. “Apologies don’t fix the problem.”

“No, but I can try to make it better starting now.” 

Emil mulled over those words before crossing the room to climb into the bed. “You can try. I have my doubts, but you can try.” With the resignation of a man condemned to meet a firing squad, Emil stripped away his clothes until his bottom half was bare. 

He wanted to comment that Emil could remove the shirt, but Alfred was also secretly afraid the other nation would bite him. He inched over to place his hand on Emil’s hip, shushing him as he jerked at the touch. “I’ve got you, hon. You don’t have to be afraid.” 

“I’m not.” Emil drawled, “Just not used to a partner. It’s been a long war.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Alfred hated thinking of those long nights by himself in a tent or foxhole. There had been no one to provide warmth or no one to lend a warm shoulder for comfort. “The war’s over, Emil. We’re celebrating.” 

The celebration was awkward, but surprisingly wonderful. Since Emil doubted his creativity in bed, Alfred wanted to prove him wrong. If he didn’t want to get fucked, then he wasn’t going to get fucked. Carefully, he nudged the nation on his side and liberally spread some slick between Emil’s thighs. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Being creative,” Alfred answered as he slicked his cock up and lined himself between Emil’s thighs. “Just rock with me, it’ll feel good.” He never lied about pleasure. As he wrapped his arm around Emil’s waist, he used their sideways position to slowly grind against his scrotum. Hearing his partner’s surprise moan sent a delicious chill up his spine. 

It was obvious Alfred’s plan was working because whenever he took too long to move, Emil’s hips rutted backwards impatiently. “I’ve got ya,” he promised softly as he kept a firm hand on Emil’s hip and rocked into the soft area between his thighs. It was wonderfully tight and the friction made his toes curl with each thrust. He leaned in to bite Emil’s shoulder through his shirt, groaning as the nation reached down to fist both of their cocks. “Fuck, Emil.” 

When he felt the familiar lurch of his coming orgasm, he rutted even faster into the gap between Emil’s thighs. Each shuddering thrust pushed him closer and closer to his completion. Emil twisted his hand in just the right way and Alfred splattered against his thighs. Emil sank against Alfred’s sweaty chest and they both lay there to catch their breaths. 

“I take back what I said.”

“Hmm?” Alfred questioned as he made himself comfortable against the pillows. 

“I take back what I said. You’ve got plenty of imagination.” 

It wasn’t the forgiveness that he truly wanted, but it was a start. Maybe in a few years, he would be able to visit Emil without the burning shame. Maybe they’d even try this again. 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

*Iceland was neutral for most of the war. In fact, both the British and the US illegally invaded Iceland in an attempt to protect trade routes from the Germans. If Germany gained access to those trade routes, it would have cut Britain off from supplies and forced them out of the war. Iceland will gain independence from Denmark after the end of World War II.   
*According to my research, Iceland doesn’t like to be seen naked? I thought it would be easy to bring into play here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! I hope to crank out a few more chapters soon.


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